


Emergency preparedness

by xieathe



Category: Next Avengers
Genre: Gen, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xieathe/pseuds/xieathe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief look at James' last moments with Natasha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergency preparedness

“James, get your things! Now!”

The voice is muffled and hurried, waking him up in the middle of the night. James sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes, and looks around the darkened room. A dim figure is moving through the shadows toward him - slender, small. His mom. James blinks, trying to adjust his sight, but she doesn’t afford him the time, pulling him up with an efficiency he’s come to know in his short time on Earth.

“Remember what I said about being prepared for anything?” He nods sleepily and she strokes his hair back from his face. He can’t see her face in the dark; it scares him. “I need you to get your things. Just like I taught you, okay? Then I need you to go downstairs and wait for your father and the others.”

“What about you?” He’s almost afraid to ask, because his mom sounds super serious, but James can’t be afraid. His dad would never be afraid to ask. “Did you pack your things?”

Natasha doesn’t answer immediately, half turned to look out the window of his room. “Not yet,” she replies, and there’s something in her voice that puts James on edge, but he doesn’t know why. “Now go. I’ll see you soon, маленький капитан.”

She leaves before he has a chance to say anything else, standing in the dark of his room with moonlight streaming in from outside. James frowns, confused and scared, but his mom gave him something to do, so he hurries to his closet and starts rummaging through, grabbing the backpack he’d stowed away for just this purpose. It has some clothes and shoes and other things dad always told him any soldier needed.

Meet downstairs, his mom had said. James tugs the bag onto his back, looking out the window quickly to see the moonlight reflecting off swaying tree branches, then he hurries out of his room, scurrying by his parents’ before backpeddling. His mom had sounded so weird when he asked if she had her emergency bag packed. What if she didn’t have time before they needed to leave? He bet she’d be upset if she didn’t have something to wear.

Sitting down, he opens his bag and pulls out his favourite catcher's mitt (true, it wasn't what a _soldier_ needed, but he figured his dad wouldn't mind if he brought something fun), setting it carefully aside before heading into his parents’ bedroom. He has to drag a box over to reach things in their closet, but he manages to pull down a black dress he knew his mom liked to wear. Then he grabs a shirt and pants from his father’s drawer (they don't match), and stuffs them into his bag before continuing downstairs like Natasha had told him.

By morning, his house is on fire, burning like so much kindling, and his mom and dad gone. James stares out the window of the quinjet Tony’s piloting, bag clutched to his chest. Somewhere in the wreckage of the mansion, his baseball mitt crackles and burns, remnants of a life he’ll never quite remember but can’t quite forget.


End file.
